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studied the sky from his narrow yard, which resulted curiously in the gift in later years of a great
reflecting telescope to a famous university. He had not looked upon himself as an ordinary
prisoner, by any means--had not felt himself to be sufficiently punished if a real crime had been
involved. From Bonhag he had learned the history of many criminals here incarcerated, from
murderers up and down, and many had been pointed out to him from time to time. He had been
escorted into the general yard by Bonhag, had seen the general food of the place being
prepared, had heard of Stener's modified life here, and so forth. It had finally struck him that it
was not so bad, only that the delay to an individual like himself was wasteful. He could do so
much now if he were out and did not have to fight court proceedings. Courts and jails! He shook
his head when he thought of the waste involved in them.
"That's all right," he said, looking around him in an uncertain way. "I'm ready."
He stepped out into the hall, with scarcely a farewell glance, and to Bonhag, who was grieving
greatly over the loss of so profitable a customer, he said: "I wish you would see that some of
these things are sent over to my house, Walter. You're welcome to the chair, that clock, this
mirror, those pictures--all of these things in fact, except my linen, razors, and so forth."
The last little act of beneficence soothed Bonhag's lacerated soul a little. They went out into the
receiving overseer's office, where Cowperwood laid aside his prison suit and the soft shirt with a
considerable sense of relief. The clog shoes had long since been replaced by a better pair of his
own. He put on the derby hat and gray overcoat he had worn the year before, on entering, and
expressed himself as ready. At the entrance of the prison he turned and looked back--one last
glance--at the iron door leading into the garden.
"You don't regret leaving that, do you, Frank?" asked Steger, curiously.
"I do not," replied Cowperwood. "It wasn't that I was thinking of. It was just the appearance of it,
that's all."
In another minute they were at the outer gate, where Cowperwood shook the warden finally by
the hand. Then entering a carriage outside the large, impressive, Gothic entrance, the gates
were locked behind them and they were driven away.
"Well, there's an end of that, Frank," observed Steger, gayly; "that will never bother you any
more."
"Yes," replied Cowperwood. "It's worse to see it coming than going."
"It seems to me we ought to celebrate this occasion in some way," observed Walter Leigh. "It
won't do just to take Frank home. Why don't we all go down to Green's? That's a good idea."
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," replied Cowperwood, feelingly. "I'll get together with you all,
later. Just now I'd like to go home and change these clothes."
He was thinking of Aileen and his children and his mother and father and of his whole future.
Life was going to broaden out for him considerably from now on, he was sure of it. He had
learned so much about taking care of himself in those thirteen months. He was going to see
Aileen, and find how she felt about things in general, and then he was going to resume some
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